Almost Free
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: At age ten, Piers tries to save himself.


_Word Count: 1103_

**_Warning: mentions of child abuse, as well as some small depictions _**

* * *

Piers doesn't even think about it. All he knows is he _cannot_ return home. He's ten now, and that means maybe he's old enough to survive on his own.

Well. Not quite on his own. Privet Drive isn't too far from his home, and, even in the freshly fallen snow, it's a quick enough walk.

Dudley's mum opens the door, frowning. "Shouldn't you be dressed warmer?" she asks.

Piers shuffles his feet, cheeks burning. "Coat's in the wash," he says, tugging at his snow-dusted jumper. "May I come in?"

She steps aside, her frown deepening. Piers tries his best not to make a mess on her obsessively scrubbed floor.

"Dudley and Malcolm are in his room," she tells him. "Go on up."

Malcolm. Piers doesn't care too much for the other boy, but he's Dudley's friend, and Dudley is the only one who likes Piers. By that logic, any friend of Dudley's has to be Piers' friend by default. Malcolm and Dennis don't like the logic, but it doesn't matter. Dudley says that's the way it goes, and even Malcolm isn't stupid enough to argue.

Piers hurries upstairs. Dudley's door is partially open, so he slips inside. At first, the boys are so consumed by the flashing graphics on the screen to even notice him. Then, Dudley glances up, grinning. "Should've told me you'd be coming round," he says. "I've got crisps."

Piers shakes his head and moves closer. Malcolm glares at him, making it clear he doesn't appreciate the intrusion; Piers makes sure to keep his distance, taking a seat on Dudley's other side. Dudley passes Malcolm the controller and the other boy begins his game.

"I ran away from home," Piers says.

Dudley knows the basics of what Piers' home life is like. Malcolm and Dennis know less, but they've seen the bruises.

"Wow," is all Dudley manages to say.

Piers nods, cheeks burning. Maybe he expected a little something more. Maybe he wanted Dudley to look or sound impressed. "You should run with me," Piers suggests. "The world will be our oyster, and I don't even like oysters."

Dudley shakes his head, shooting down the idea without a word. Maybe Piers should have expected that. Dudley has a good life and parents that love him. Why would he ever want to run away from home?

"You can stay here," Dudley suggests. "My parents like you. You can be like the brother I never had!"

"You have Harry," Malcom snorts, earning a hard punch from Dudley.

"It could work! We'll just say you're spending the night for a while, then you can go to Malcolm's, then Dennis'!" Dudley says, seemingly excited by his own plan.

"Geniuses, lower your voices," Malcolm says, nodding toward the door. "First rule of running away is not letting the whole bloody block know your plan."

Piers wants to ask what Malcolm knows about running away. Like Dudley, Malcolm comes from a good home with parents who let him get away with anything. He wouldn't have any reason to even think about running away.

Malcolm groans as his character onscreen dies. He tosses the controller at Piers. The hard plastic cracks against Piers' bruised thigh, and he winces.

This will be the last time he has to deal with being hit or burned or thrown outside to sleep in the snow. This is freedom, and he will embrace it. Grinning despite the painful throbbing in his leg, he takes the controller and presses start.

…

Two hours after Malcolm leaves, it's just Piers and Dudley. Piers actually thinks that maybe they can get away with this; maybe he can be free. Any other day, he would think this sort of hope is little more than nonsense, but now he can practically taste it.

"I always wanted a brother," Piers says as he hands Dudley the controller. "Being your brother would be neat."

Dudley nods his agreement but doesn't respond. His eyes narrow as his fighter comes face to face with a new opponent. Piers doesn't mind being ignored for this. It's actually really fun to watch his friend play.

He stretches out, plucking a crisp from the bag and popping it into his mouth, savoring the cheesy flavor.

"Dudders?" Mrs. Dursley appears in the doorway, offering the boys a small smile. "Tell Piers goodnight. His parents are here to pick him up."

It's such an innocent sentence, but it forms a block of ice in the center of Piers' stomach. He had hoped it would take them longer to find him. Now he feels stupid; he should have kept running. Of course they would check here.

Dudley looks like he wants to argue, but it's no use. The Dursleys are wrapped around his finger, of course. All Dudley has to do is scream or manage some fake tears, and he can so easily get his way. It might have worked if Piers' parents weren't there.

"See ya, Dud," Piers says, forcing himself to stand though his legs feel like jelly. By some miracle, he manages to move.

His parents are waiting for him downstairs. They have bright smiles on their faces that can fool the world so easily. Piers wonders why people can't see through it and realize that they're monsters. He wants to scream and beg the Dursleys to call the police. Maybe he could show them the marks still on his skin…

He loses the nerve the moment his mother rests a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curl, and her perfectly manicured nails dig into his skin; Mr. and Mrs. Dursley don't seem to notice the death grip, but Dudley pales.

"Thank you so much for keeping an eye on him," his mum says. "It means a lot to us."

"It was no problem at all," Mrs. Dursley assures her. "We love having Piers over."

_Then let me stay, _Piers thinks. _Don't make me go home with them_.

But he has no choice. There's no one around who knows what he's going through, no one who can save him. His parents say their goodbyes, and Dudley mutters something under breath about getting together after Christmas.

His mother's grip only tightens when they get outside. There will be fresh bruises there in the morning. "You are going to regret that," she warns. "We were out here wasting our time just because you are too stupid to know how to behave yourself."

Piers doesn't respond. He glances over his shoulder as he's pushed into the car, his heart sinking. He was so close. If only he could have found a way to make the happiness last.


End file.
